Love and Despair
by Sat-Isis
Summary: Weatherby Swann's life is in danger after his usefulness to Cutler Beckett has run its course. There are people loyal to the Gov. who don't want to see him dead and arrange for his escape from Port Royal to Kingston.
1. Chapter 1

Weatherby settled himself heavily, as if the weight of a world gone mad was pressing against him further rather than being alleviated. How easily Beckett had broken the power of the Viceroyalty with a few forged documents. The Governor could now only escape into exile - if he could stay alive for long enough.

Swann knew that without James he would already be dead: a dark stain in a dark alley. Thank God his own network of spies had not failed him. Estrella had woken him in the dead hour of the night and had hustled him to a "safe" house to await the light of dawn.

The horror of the darkness in the ossuary: the stench of the bodies yet to be burned and the _gnaw, gnaw, gnaw_ of the incest mandibles masticating the flesh of the dead and living alike. Vomit and tears had spewed down his shirt into his shoes and dribbled onto the dirt floor of the charnel house.

The white light of dawn began to creep into the house of death of the Middle Passage and Weatherby had covered his closed eyes with his trembling hands. He did not want to see.

And then Estrella had returned, glowing with sweat and bosom heaving with breath, and he wondered how she could stand the smell and the sight of the place and he damned her for leaving him there. Not at all insulted, she merely let the Governor know that the last place _they_ would look for a walking dead man was _their own_ charnel house.

Estrella had helped him into the baggage boot of his own carriage and he rested his head on a canvas bag full of extra clothes and clutched a basket of cold meat and cheese, warm bread, and a bottle of rum. The last thing he saw for the next several hours was his spy's strained face as she lowered the flaps over him and placed him once more in darkness.

He had no appetite, but he used the rum to rid the bile from his mouth and mulled over his instructions again. Swann was not to make a sound or leave the boot until they reached Kingston and only Norrington would give him the "safe" word. "Elizabeth."

Weatherby heard Norrington's voice before he felt him climb into the carriage and tried to relax even as he found himself trembling. A lurch and the carriage was off, the team not quite thundering down the lane, but making good time regardless.

Swann spent the hours sobbing and swigging rum and as the heat of the day began to beat down on his little hidey-hole he regretted his lack of composure. Weatherby passed out from heat, dehydration, and exhaustion before the team was changed and pissed what little water he had in him all over his britches.


	2. Chapter 2

Weatherby jerked groggily awake to the sound of someone vomiting. It was Norrington. He had opened the flap to the carriage boot and had been assaulted by the God Awful reek of death, bile, and piss cooked at over one-hundred degrees.

"I am terribly sorry for my current state," Swann rasped out through swollen lips with a dry tongue. James was spitting in the dirt and whipping his nose and chin with a handkerchief. He waved his hand and absolved Swann of his stink.

There was some run left in the bottle and Weatherby held it out to James with a trembling hand. Norrington took the bottle and saluted the Governor with it before taking a swig to swish in his mouth and spit in the dirt.

"Can you stand on your own?" James asked as he took he basket and threw it into the mouth of an alley; the vitals within were now only palatable to the rats and other vermin.

"No," Swann quavered, "…my clothes," and held out his free arm for Norrington to grasp him and raise him up, support him as he tried to climb out of the carriage boot while clutching his canvas bag. Weatherby was festering with questions, but he dared not speak them allowed until he knew they were in a place where the walls with ears were on their side.

"We are approaching the Admiralty and we shall have an audience with Admiral Bratton," Norrington volunteered. They had to enter through the back door like supplicants and that was appropriate for a disgraced Naval Officer and a Governor on the knife's edge of assassination.

Swann was able to rinse himself with a wet bit of cloth in bowl of water and change into his extra set of clothes. Thank God Estrella has stuffed a pair of shoes and a wig into the bag as well. He felt much of his dignity resorted as he wriggled his toes in a new set of stocking in a new set of shoes.

Norrington was waiting outside the doors to Admiral Bratton's office as Weatherby drank deeply the sangria that was provided for him and when he finished he joined James at the end of the hallway and settled himself on the bench.

A secretariat opened the door from within and bade them to enter, announcing the Jamaican Governor Weatherby Swann and Mr. James Norrington of the East India Trading Company.

"A pleasure to see you again, Governor Swann," Admiral Bratton indicated the old, but comfortable William and Mary chair before his bureau de plat, "Is there anything I can get you? Coffee, tea, cognac?"

Weatherby was well aware that James was deliberately being snubbed, and though he tired of the little games, he could engage in his own snubs quite well. "I believe I will have whatever James is having. James?"

Norrington still stood, having not been offered a seat, holding his hat in his hands. He burned with shame. He demurred to Weatherby, uncomfortable at being the birdie between Bratton and Swann's game.

"A dish of coffee would be an excellent restorative to stimulate my mind and body," Swann said, then turned to James, "Norrington, do have a seat with me. It does fray my nerves to have a gentleman stand when all others are seated."


	3. Chapter 3

Swann accepted the proffered coffee with tired dignity and sipped at it while waiting for the doors to close behind the last of the servants and supernumeraries for proper privacy. Despite the comfortable chair James could not take advantage of it and sat stiffly with his hat on his lap and his coffee dish clasped gingerly in this hands.

"Last night the East India Trading Company attempted to assassinate me. I require protection and passage back to England. Immediately," Swann said without delicacy. Admiral Bratton had been sipping his coffee and had managed after a slight hesitation to swallow it. He set his dish back upon its saucer with a clink.

"Lord Cutler Beckett is behind the plot and he does not yet know that I have smuggled the Governor out of Port Royal. Officially, I have come here to discuss noninterference with EITC ships, Admiral," Norrington's voice clipped through the silence. Bratton put down his coffee and drummed his fingers on his desk, his eyes flashing betwixt Swann and Norrington.

It was an unconscionable attack against vice-royalty by a chartered company and yet the Admiral knew that such companies were dangerous. Even if the EITC had not broken beyond the confines of its charter, the Admiral did not currently have enough force to recon with it. He shook his head at the idea of giving mercantile civilians the liberties of armies and navies without the responsibilities of upholding the political agendas of England.

"Governor Swann, in light of these abhorrent circumstances," Bratton's sympathy was sincere, "I can have you on a ship departing for England by tomorrow evening. Should there be anything you require, do not hesitate to inform me."

"My daughter, Elizabeth," Weatherby could not finish, suddenly overcome with emotion. "Miss Swann," James began, "was taken hostage by Lord Beckett upon his arrival in Port Royal. She managed to escape and has sought refuge with her fiancé, William Turner, under the protection of the pirate, Jack Sparrow. We ask that all consideration be given to her should she be on a pirate vessel captured by a ship of His Majesty's Royal Navy."

"Naturally," Bratton said, his eyes fixed on Norrington as he politely ignored the Governor until Swann could compose himself. James looked down and realized he had yet to drink any of his coffee. Although he had no thirst, James drank his entire dish to avoid any slight towards the Admiral.

"I am very weary and wish to retire for the time being. I shall leave you and Admiral Norrington to discuss the details of all business, official and unofficial," Swann said as he stood and placed his half-finished dish on the bureau. Admiral Bratton rose smoothly and went to the Governor to show him to the door and arrange for him to be quartered in the meantime.

Flustered by Weatherby's sudden retreat, James stood abruptly and toppled his hat to the floor. Embarrassed, hoping Bratton had not seen such an unseemly thing, he clinked his empty dish onto the bureau next to Swann's and quickly bent to snatch his hat off the floor. He turned, tucking his hat under his arm, and bowed to Swann as he was lead down the hall by a servant.

Bratton closed the door and turned to face Norrington, giving him a hard look before returning to his bureau. James stood rigid under the Admiral's scrutiny and stared fixedly at a place just above the other man's eyes. "You disappoint me," Bratton stated flatly and James flushed like a midshipman. "That aside," the Admiral continued, "it would seem you and I have some matters to discuss. Sit."


End file.
